Chapter One- Stolen I tried to leave the house as silently as possible, although I didn’t need to. However, I still caught the attention of my aunt Estelle, who had been my guardian for two months now. “Are you going somewhere?” she asked, looking up at me from the TV.

“Yeah, to Jamie’s,” I murmured back, not really looking at her. “I, uh, got a call from him, saying that everybody else was there.” I shrugged. Estelle knew what I meant by “everyone.”

“All right, then,” she sighed. “The regular rules— back by one o clock.”

I nodded and left, happy to leave the stuffy house.

It wasn’t exactly uncomfortable; it just felt like there was too much in there, sucking up the oxygen and fresh air that managed to come in. There were ottomans and couches and many cushions, but the windows were rarely open or even acknowledged. The curtains gave a heavy feeling, and even the doors were soundproof. I walked quickly away from the building.

I knew that I was coming unexpectedly, but everybody in our little ring did it.

I fumbled with the keys for a moment before opening the paint-peeling door that belonged to a matching house. Jamie chose this because it “had character.” He gave me extra keys a while ago, on my seventeenth birthday. As usual, everything was quiet, but I knew that at least two people were down in the basement. They were probably eating pizza and playing heavy metal loudly. Not really wanting to interrupt their ear-drum killing moment, I began to clean up around James’s place, picking up dirty clothes and washing the dishes. Then I dug up the canned clam chowder that I bought on my way here and heated it on the stove, gently stirring it, and then left it there for Jamie to get to later. After everything seemed cockroach-free, I stepped quietly down the stairs and pushed aside the black curtains that replaced a door that used to be there.

Used to.

“Hey, guys,” I said nervously out into the room. Four faces turned to greet me: Tyler, Kirstin, Pete, and Jamie, the owner of the house. It was like I guessed, and they were eating the usual pizza—cheese, mushroom, and pineapple, much to my displeasure. Jamie leaned in to kiss me, but I turned my head in rejection. He was frowning, so I retreated to Tyler and Kirstin, my sanctuary, when they weren’t mad at me. I had tried to avoid Jamie for as long a three months now, ever since he started becoming extremely possessive. It felt like he was stalking me, and I was pretty sure that my suspicions were correct. “Hey, Ari,” they said in unison.

“Hi.” No matter how many times we talked, there was a certain awkwardness. Tyler, a girl, was Jamie’s ex. And Kirstin was Tyler’s best friend. But they seemed to open up to me more when they were sober, which was more often than before.

For six hours I retreated there, away from the dreads of paying for my own college. As usual, Jamie bugged me about it as soon as Tyler and Kirstin were away from me.

He came from behind me and put his arms around me.

“I told you; I could help you pay for NYU,” he insisted. “I’m not going to college anyways.” He chuckled, remembering my surprise at the news he broke to us a month ago.

“But your parents left it for you before they left for Canada,” I complained. “It’s yours, and Aunt Estelle is paying for half.”

“But it would be easier for you if I could just—“

“Really, I’m fine.”

He laughed and backed off, a doubtful look in his eyes. In truth, he was worried. This was a tad bit strange, since he never even thought of college before. Pete was flipping through the channels, surfing the TV cable. I had to leave at midnight, and I watched the entire view of the basement We all seemed like regular seventeen and eighteen year olds—innocent and unaware of what lay ahead.

-:-

I left the house and locked it. The leaves were still green, but everything seemed cold or frozen tonight. Even the pizza I ate that night was cold, but hopefully the clam chowder would have stayed warm. I huddled in my coat, which did very little for me, and I walked as fast as possible back to my aunt’s house. I saw an alleyway.

I hesitated for a second at the mouth of the opening. We had gone through here several times to get me home earlier when I was late, Jamie and I. But I always had at least one person with me, as Jamie “ordered”—anytime I went through here, I had to have somebody (“somebody” meant either Jamie himself or Pete) close by. There were many bars and clubs along this alleyway, something Jamie saw as threatening.

I passed by Ricky’s Bar and looked at the windows for a brief moment, until I decided to go in, just for a moment, because rain began to fall.

Inside was warm and damp. I could only hope that nobody would actually know my real age and kick me out back into the hurricane outside. Thankfully, the bartender was very old and could barely see out of his eyes. He came to me, and I shook my head, and then pointed at the window, showing him that I just came in to escape from the rain. I regretted not taking an umbrella when I heard of the storm that was gong to hit.

The bartender, however, poured me a glass of Sprite. It turned out he could see better than I thought. I reached in to pay for it when another hand shot out to pay for me. I turned to see who it was, half of me believing that it was Jamie, who had a knack of appearing suddenly when I least expected him to.

It wasn’t Jamie, as my other half believed.

This guy was around twenty or so, I guessed. His hair was an ash blonde, and his eyes were the darkest shade of black I’ve ever seen, almost bluish due to the lighting. The bartender shot him an annoyed look and left.

“Hello, I’m Ian,” he grinned, shaking my hand. I smiled back, and could only imagine what would have happened to Ian if Jamie was here with me.

“Thank you for the Sprite,” I murmured back politely. I peeked and saw that he had a camera on his lap. “Are you a photographer?” I asked, trying to continue the conversation. I didn’t want to feel so lonely, not yet. He nodded slightly.

“Sometimes. I usually switch jobs in-between, then go back when I feel like it.” He shrugged, then grinned again. “I live like a vagabond, actually. I just drove here from New York.”

“You drove?” I asked in bewilderment. He nodded.

“Took me a hell of a time,” he laughed. Then suddenly, all humor faded out. “Hey, I was looking for a muse…” He smiled sheepishly. “Would you mind if I took a couple of pictures of you? You know, for inspiration later?”

I was stunned. I didn’t know what to say.

“It stopped raining,” he added hopefully, nodding at the windows. He was right.

“Oh, uh, ok, then,” I stammered, following him out. Several males seemed sorry to see me leave, and I mentally shot hate-daggers at all of them.

Outside, the air itself was still damp. The only source of light was from the moon an various clubs and bars. Ian led me to another alleyway.

“Um, I don’t think it’s very safe in there,” I muttered frantically, taking a peek into the alley from the mouth of the entrance. “Maybe…somewhere else?”

Ian responded by forcefully grabbing my wrist and yanking me into the alleyway.

“Hey!” I protested, feeling adrenaline and terror washing over me. I fought, struggling to pull my arm from his grasp.

“If you fight,” he hissed from between clenched teeth, “I swear that I will kill you. So shut up.” I stopped talking. I could tell that he was being serious. Pushing me against a brick wall, he held me there by pressing against my shoulders with his hands.

“Stay still,” he warned, leaning in towards my neck.

“What the—?” I breathed, just as his teeth sank into my skin.

That bastard was biting me!

The truth hit me: he wasn’t a bastard, he was a vampire.

Trying to breath normally and stay frozen, I squeezed my eyes shut, attempting at blocking out the horrible sucking noise and the shoot of pain and drowsiness. I couldn’t fall asleep there, with a stinking vampire feeding from me.

Yet I did sleep. I had no choice but to.

Posted by thevampiredoll Fri, 07/04/2008 - 18:02

 

Chapter 15

Thus three weeks passed without apparent change in their relations. Ernest possessed a personal magnetism that, always emanating from him, was felt most deeply when withdrawn. He was at all times involuntarily exerting his power, which she ever resisted, always on the alert, always warding off.

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The Vampire Maid - Hume Nisbet

James Hume Nisbet (1849-1923), author and artist, was born on 8 August 1849 at Stirling, Scotland, son of James Nisbet, house-decorator, and his wife Jane, née Hume. He was educated in letters under Rev. Dr James Culross and in painting under the artist Sam Bough, R.S.A. Of a roving disposition, at 16 he went to Melbourne and found various jobs. About 1868 he spent a year playing small parts with Walter Montgomery and others at the Theatre Royal. He then wandered around eastern Australia, New Zealand and the South Sea Islands.

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Chapter 4 The Isle of Wyrm

Chapter 4

ISLE OF WYRM

 

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Spit of Vampire Bat May Help Stroke Victims

January 10, 2003 (The Chicago Sun-Times) - An experimental clot-busting drug that someday might limit damage from strokes is derived from a most unusual source-- vampire bats. The drug might lengthen the three-hour treatment window that limits the effectiveness of the only approved drug in use, according to a study published today in Stroke: Journal of the American Heart Association.

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The Candle

I speak when there's no light in the skies
Reflecting dark in mysterious eyes,
Those who worship know me well,
I hear thier voices rise and swell,

With pride I lend the pure my light
Softly illuminate thier night,
I boldly lend the flame my wick
To feel the fire rising quick,

I give my heart to those in need,
My wax melts, I gently bleed,
But time will end my nightly strife
For at my bottom ends my life.

Sylph
March 11, 2002

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